are here privilegedI ain't a speeder of matrimonyI beg of my husband, and all kindpeople who may have the careI rather like to hear a woman swear.It embellishes her!I can confess my sight to be imperfect:but will you ever do so?I do not think Frenchmen comparable tothe women of FranceI take off my hat, Nan, when I see acobbler's stallI would wait till he flung you off, andkneel to youI had to make my father and mother liveon potatoesI am not ashamedI hope I am not too hungry todiscriminateI cannot say less, and will say no moreI wanted a heroI do not see it, because I will not seeitI can pay clever gentlemen for doingGreek for meI never saw out of a doll-shop, andnever saw thereI 'm the warming pan, as legitimately Ishould beI detest enthusiasmI baint done yetI know that your father has beenhearing tales told of meI never knew till this morning theforce of No in earnestI hate sleep: I hate anything that robsme of my willI have all the luxuries—enough toloathe themI who respect the state of marriage byrefusingI make a point of never recommending myown houseI like him, I like him, of course, butI want to breatheI am a discordant instrument I do notreadily vibrateI don't count them against women(moods)I 'm a bachelor, and a person—you'remarried, and an objectI did, replied Evan. 'I told a lie.'I never see anything, my dearI always wait for a thing to happenfirstI'll come as straight as I canI'm for a rational DeityI'm in love with everything she wishes!I've got the habitIdea is the only vital breathIdeas in gestation are the dullestmatter you can haveIf we are really for Nature, we are notlawlessIf there's no doubt about it, how is itI have a doubt about it?If you kneel down, who will decline toput a foot on you?If I love you, need you care whatanybody else thinksIf we are to please you rightly, alwaysallow us to play FirstIf he had valued you half a grain less,he might have won youIf the world is hostile we are not toblame itIf we are robbed, we ask, How came weby the goods?If thou wouldst fix remembrance—thwack!If I'm struck, I strike backIf only been intellectually a littleflexible in his moralityIf you have this creative soul, be theslave of your creatureIf I do not speak of paymentIgnorance roaring behind a mask ofsarcasmImagination she has, for a source ofstrength in the future daysImmense wealth and native obtusenesscombine to disfigure usImparting the usual chorus of yesses tohis own mindImpossible for him to think that womenthoughtImpossible for us women to comprehendlove without folly in manImpudent boy's fling at superiorityover the superiorIn the pay of our doctorsIn every difficulty, patience is alife-beltIn India they sacrifice the widows, inFrance the virginsIn bottle if not on draught (oratory)In our House, my son, there is peculiarblood. We go to wreck!In Sir Austin's Note-book was written:"Between Simple Boyhood..."In Italy, a husband away, ze friendtakes titleIn truth she sighed to feel as he did,above everybodyIncapable of putting the screw uponweak excited natureIncessantly speaking of the necessitywe granted it unknowinglyInclined to act hesitation in acceptingthe aid she soughtIncrease of dissatisfaction with themore she gotIndirect communication with heavenInducement to act the hypocrite beforethe hypocrite worldIndulged in their privilege of thinkingwhat they likedInfallibility of our august motherInfants are said to have their ideas,and why not young ladies?Infatuated men argue likewise, andscandal does not move themInferences are like shadows on the wallInflicted no foretaste of her comingsubjection to himInformed him that he never played jokeswith money, or on menInjury forbids us to be friends againInnocence and uncleanness may gotogetherInsistency upon there being two sidesto a case—to every caseIntellectual contempt of easy dupesIntensely communicative, butinarticulateIntentions are really rich possessionsIntimations of cowardice menacing aparalysis of the willIntrusion of the spontaneous on thestereotyped would clashIntrusion of hard material statements,factsInvite indecision to exhaust theirscruplesIreland 's the sore place of EnglandIrishman there is a barrow trolling aload of grievancesIrishmen will never be quite sincereIronical fortitudeIrony in him is only eulogy standing onits headIrony that seemed to spring fromaversionIrony instead of eloquenceIrony provoked his laughter more thanfunIrritability at the intrusion of pastdisputesIs he jealous? 'Only when I make him,he is.'Is not one month of brightness as muchas we can ask for?Is it any waste of time to write oflove?It 's us hard ones that get on best inthe worldIt was harder to be near and not closeIt is not high flying, which usuallyends in heavy fallingIt is no insignificant contest whenlove has to crush self-loveIt would be hard! ay, then we do itforthwithIt was as if she had been eyeing agolden door shut fastIt is the best of signs when women taketo herIt was his ill luck to have strongappetites and a weak stomachIt rarely astonishes our ears Itillumines our soulsIt goes at the lifting of thebridegroom's little fingerIt was an honest buss, but dear at tenthousandIt is well to learn manners withouthaving them imposed on usIt was in a time before our joyful eraof universal equalityIt is the devil's masterstroke to getus to accuse himIt was her prayer to heaven that shemight save a doctor's billIt is better for us both, of courseIt was now, as Sir Austin had writtenit down, The Magnetic AgeIt is no use trying to conceal anythingfrom himIt's a fool that hopes for peaceanywhereIt's no use trying to be a gentleman ifyou can't pay for itItalians were like women, and wanted—areal beatingIts glee at a catastrophe; its poorstock of mercyJanuary was watering and freezing oldearth by turnsJudging of the destiny of man by thefate of individualsJust bad inquirin' too close among menKeep passion sober, a trotter inharnessKelts, as they are called, can't andwon't forgive injuriesKindness is kindness, all over theworldKnew my friend to be one of the mostabsent-minded of menLack of precise words admonished him ofthe virtue of silenceLand and beasts! They sound likeblessed thingsLawyers hold the keys of the greatworldLay no petty traps for opportunityLaying of ghosts is a public dutyLeader accustomed to count ahead uponvapourish abstractionsLearn all about them afterwards, ay,and make the best of themLearn—principally not to be afraid ofideasLed him to impress his unchangeablenessupon herLend him your own generosityLengthened term of peace bred maggotsin the heads of the peopleLest thou commence to lie—be dumb!Let but the throb be kept for others—That is the one secretLet never Necessity draw the bow of ourweaknessLet none of us be so exalted above thewit of daily lifeLevelling a finger at the taxpayerLies are usurers' coin we pay for tenthousand per centLife is the burlesque of young dreamsLike a woman, who would and would not,and wanted a masterLike an ill-reared fruit, first at thecore it rottethLimit was two bottles of port wine at asittingListened to one another, and blindedthe worldLiterature is a good stick and a badhorseLittle boy named Tommy Wedger said hesaw a dead body go byLittlenesses of which women are accusedLoathing of artifice to raise emotionLoathing for speculationLonging for love and dependenceLook within, and avoid lyingLook well behindLook backward only to correct an errorof conduct in futureLooked as proud as if he had justclapped down the full amountLooking on him was listeningLoudness of the interrogation precludedthought of an answerLove, with his accustomed cunningLove the poor devilLove dies like natural decayLove the children of Erin, when notfretted by themLove of men and women as a toy that Ihave played withLove of pleasure keeps us blindchildrenLove and war have been compared—Bothrequire strategyLove that shrieks at a mortal wound,and bleeds humanlyLove discerns unerringly what is andwhat is not dutyLove must needs be an egoismLove is a contagious diseaseLove the difficulty better than thewomanLove, that has risen above emotion,quite independent of cravingLove's a selfish business one has workin handLoves his poets, can almost understandwhat poetry meansLoving in this land: they all go mad,straight offLucky accidents are anticipated only byfoolsMade of his creed a strait-jacket forhumanityMadness that sane men enamoured can bestruck byMagnificent in generosity; he hadlittle humanenessMagnify an offence in the ratio of ourvanityMake no effort to amuse him. He isalways occupiedMake a girl drink her tears, if theyain't to be let fallMaking too much of it—a trick of thevulgarMan with a material object in aim, isthe man of his objectMan who beats his wife my firstquestion is, 'Do he take his tea?'Man owes a duty to his classMan who helps me to read the world andmen as they areMan without a penny in his pocket, anda gizzard full of prideMankind is offended by heterodoxy inmean attireMare would do, and better than a dozenhorsesMark of a fool to take everybody for abigger fool than himselfMarriage is an awful thing, wherethere's no loveMarried at forty, and I had to take hershaped as she wasMarried a wealthy manufacturer—bartered her blood for his moneyMartyrs of love or religion are madmenMaterial good reverses its benefits themore nearly we clasp itMatter that is not nourishing to brainsMaxims of her own on the subject ofrising and getting the wormMay lull themselves with theirwakefulnessMay not one love, not craving to bebeloved?Meant to vanquish her with thedominating patienceMeditations upon the errors of thegeneral man, as a coverMemory inspired by the sensationsMen overweeningly in love with theircreationsMen do not play truant from home atsixty years of ageMen they regard as their natural preyMen bore the blame, though the womenwere rightly punishedMen must fight: the law is only aquieter field for themMen in love are children with theirmistressesMen love to boast of things nobody elsehas seenMen who believe that there is a virtuein imprecationsMen had not pleased him of lateMental and moral neutersMetaphysician's treatise on Nature: atorch to see the sunriseMighty Highnesses who had only smeltthe outside edge of battleMika! you did it in cold blood?Mindless, he says, and arrogantMinutes taken up by the grey puffs fromtheir mouthsMistake of the world is to thinkhappiness possible to the senseMistaking of her desires for herreasonsModest are the most easily intoxicatedwhen they sip at vanityMoney is of course a rough test ofvirtueMoney's a chain-cable for holding mento their sensesMoral indignation is ever consolatoryMorales, madame, suit ze sunMore argument I cannot bearMore culpable the sparer than thesparedMost youths are like Pope's women; theyhave no characterMrs. Fleming, of Queen Anne's Farm, wasthe wife of a yeomanMusic was resumed to confuse thehearing of the eavesdroppersMusic in Italy? Amorous and martial,brainless and monotonousMust be the moralist in the satirist ifsatire is to strikeMutual deferenceMy engagement to Mr. Pericles is that Iam not to writeMy mistress! My glorious stolen fruit!My dark angel of loveMy plain story is of two KentishdamselsMy first girl—she's brought disgraceon this houseMy belief is, you do it on purpose.Can't be such rank idiotsMy voice! I have my voice! Emilia hadcried it out to herselfNaked original ideas, are acceptable atno timeNapoleon's treatment of women isexcellent exampleNation's half made-up of the idle andthe servants of the idleNations at war are wild beastsNaturally as deceived as he wished tobeNature and Law never agreedNature is not of necessity alwaysroaringNature could at a push be eloquent todefend the guiltyNature's logic, Nature's voice, forself-defenceNaughtily Australian and kangaroolyNecessary for him to denounce somebodyNecessity's offspringNeeded support of facts, and fearedthemNever reckon on womankind for a wiseactNever, never love a married womanNever intended that we should play withflesh and bloodNever forget that old Ireland isweepingNever forgave an injury without areturn blow for itNever to despise the good opinion ofthe nonentitiesNever nurse an injury, great or smallNever was a word fitter for a quack'smouth than "humanity"Never fell far short of outstrippingthe sturdy pedestrian TimeNever pretend to know a girl by herfaceNevertheless, inclinations are aninfidelityNext door to the Last TrumpNight has little mercy for theself-reproachfulNo nose to the hero, no moral to thetaleNo runner can outstrip his fateNo companionship save with the woundthey nurseNo Act to compel a man to deny whatappears in the papersNo great harm done when you're silentNo heart to dare is no heart to love!No stopping the Press while the peoplehave an appetite for itNo word is more lightly spoken thanshameNo flattery for me at the expense of mysistersNo man has a firm foothold who pretendsto itNo enemy's shot is equal to a weakheart in the actNo man can hear the words which provehim a prophet (quietly)No conversation coming of it, hercuriosity was violentNo intoxication of hot blood to cheerthose who sat at homeNo case is hopeless till a man consentsto think it isNo love can be without jealousyNo! Gentlemen don't fling stones; leavethat to the blackguardsNone but fanatics, cowards,white-eyeballed dogmatistsNor can a protest against coarseness besweepingly interpretedNot every chapter can be sunshineNot afford to lose, and a dispositionfree of the craving to winNot men of brains, but the men ofaptitudesNot the indignant and the frozen, butthe genially indifferentNot daring risk of office by offendingthe taxpayerNot in love—She was only not unwillingto be in loveNot a page of his books revealsmalevolence or a sneerNot always the right thing to do theright thingNot to do things wholly is worse thannot to do things at allNot to be feared more than are thegeneral race of bunglersNot much esteem for non-professionalactressesNot in a situation that could bear ofher blaming herselfNot so much read a print as read theimprinting on themselvesNot to go hunting and fawning foralliancesNot to bother your wits, but leave thepuzzle to the priestNot to be the idol, to have an aim ofour ownNot the great creatures we assumeourselves to beNot likely to be far behind curates inbesieging an heiressNothing is a secret that has beenspokenNothing desirable will you have whichis not covetedNothing the body suffers that the soulmay not profit byNotoriously been above the honours ofgrammarNought credit but what outward orbsrevealNow far from him under the failure ofan effort to come nearNursing of a military invalid awakenstenderer anxietiesO for yesterday!O self! self! self!O heaven! of what avail is humaneffort?Obedience oils necessityObeseness is the most sensitive of ourailmentsObjects elevated even by a decayedworld have their magnetismObservation is the most, enduring ofthe pleasures of lifeOccasional instalments—just to freshenthe accountOfficial wrath at sound of footfall ora fancied oneOggler's genial piety made him shrinkwith nauseaOh! beastly bathosOh! I can't bear that class of peopleOld houses are doomed to burningsOld age is a prison wall between us andyoung peopleOmnipotence, which is in the image ofthemselvesOn a morning when day and night weremade one by fogOn the threshold of Puberty, there isone Unselfish HourOn which does the eye linger longest—which draws the heart?On a wild April morningOnce my love? said he. Not now?—doesit mean, not now?Once out of the rutted line, you arefood for lion and jackalOnce called her beautiful; his praisehad given her beautyOne wants a little animation in ahusbandOne who studies is not being a foolOne is a fish to her hook; another amoth to her lightOne might build up a respectable figurein negativesOne in a temper at a time I'm sure 'senoughOne night, and her character's goneOne learns to have compassion forfools, by studying themOne has to feel strong in a delicatepositionOne of those men whose characters areread off at a glanceOne seed of a piece of folly will lurkand sprout to confound usOne idea is a bulletOne fool makes many, and so, no doubt,does one gooseOnly to be described in the tongue ofauctioneersOnly true race, properly so called, outof India—GermanOpened a wider view of the world tohim, and a colderOpenly treated; all had an air of beingon the surfaceOptional marriages, broken or renewedevery seven yearsOr where you will, so that's in IrelandOratory will not work against thestream, or on languid tidesOrderliness, from which men areprivately exemptOur most diligent pupil learns not somuch as an earnest teacherOur weakness is the swiftest dog tohunt usOur partner is our masterOur comedies are frequently youth'stragediesOur life is but a little holding, lentTo do a mighty labourOur bravest, our best, have an impulseto runOur lawyers have us inside out, likeour physiciansOur love and labour are constantly ontrialOwner of such a woman, and to lose her!Pact between cowardice and comfortunder the title of expediencyPain is a cloak that wraps you aboutPaint themselves pure white, to theobliteration of minor spotsParliament, is the best of occupationsfor idle menPartake of a morning draughtPassion, he says, is noble strength onfirePassion is not invariably lovePassion added to a bowl of reason makesa sophist's messPassion does not inspire dark appetite—Dainty innocence doesPast, future, and present, the threeweights upon humanityPast fairness, vaguely like a snowlandscape in the thawPatience is the pestilencePatronizing womanPaying compliments and spoiling a game!Payment is no more so than to restoremoney held in trustPeace-party which opposed was theactual cause of the warPeace, I do pray, for thehusband-haunted wifePebble may roll where it likes—not sothe costly jewelPeculiar subdued form of laughterthrough the nosePeople of a provocative prosperityPeople were virtuous in past days: theycounted their sinnersPeople with whom a mute conformity isas good as worshipPeople who can lose themselves in a rayof fancy at any seasonPeople is one of your Radical big wordsthat burst at a queryPerhaps inspire him, if he would lether breathePeriod of his life a man becomes toovoraciously constantPersist, if thou wouldst truly reachthine endsPerson in another world beyond thisworld of bloodPerused it, and did not recognizeherself in her languagePessimy is invulnerablePetty concessions are signs of weaknessto the unsatisfiedPhilip was a Spartan for keeping hisfeelings underPhilosophy skimmed, and realisticromances deep-soundedPitiful conceit in menPlanting the past in the present like aperceptible ghostPlay the great game of blundersPlay second fiddle without lookingfoolishPleasant companion, who did not playthe woman obtrusively among menPlease to be pathetic on that subjectafter I am wrinkledPleasure-giving laws that make thecurves we recognize as beautyPleasure sat like an inextinguishablelight on her facePoetic romance is delusionPolicy seems to petrify their mindsPolished barbarismPolitics as well as the other diseasesPoor mortals are not in the habit ofclimbing Olympus to askPortrait of himself by the artistPractical or not, the good peopleaffectingly wish to bePractical for having an addiction tothe palpablePrayer for an object is the cajolery ofan idolPress, which had kindled, proceeded toextinguishedPresumptuous beliefPride in being always myselfPride is the God of PagansPrimitive appetite for noisePrinciple of examining your hypothesisbefore you proceed to decide by itProcrastination and excessivescrupulousnessProfessional widowsProfessional PuritansProfound belief in her partiality forhimPropitiate common sense on behalf ofwhat seems tolerably absurdProtestant clergy the social police ofthe English middle-classProvidence and her parents were notforgivenPublished Memoirs indicate the end of aman's activityPuns are the smallpox of the languagePush me to condense my thoughts to atight ballPush indolent unreason to gain thedelusion of happinessPut material aid at a lower mark thangentlenessPut into her woman's harness of the bitand the blinkersPuzzle to connect the foregoing and thesucceedingQuestion the gain of such anexpenditure of energyQuestion with some whether idiotsshould liveQuick to understand, she is in thequick of understandingQuixottry is agreeable reading, a sillyperformanceRage of a conceited schemer trickedRapture of obliviousnessRare as epic song is the man who isthorough in what he doesRare men of honour who can commandtheir passionRarely exacted obedience, and she wasspontaneously obeyedRead deep and not be baffled byinconsistenciesRead with his eyes when you meet himthis morningRead one another perfectly in theirmutual hypocrisiesReady is the ardent mind to takefooting on the last thing doneReal happiness is a state of dulnessRebellion against society and advocacyof humanity run counterRebukes which give immeasurablereboundsRecalling her to the subject-matterwith all the patienceReflection upon a statement is itslightning in advanceRefuge in the Castle of Negationagainst the whole army of factsRegularity of the grin of dentistryRejoicing they have in their commonagreementReligion condones offences: Philosophyhas no forgivenessReligion is the one refuge from womenReluctant to take the life of flowersfor a whimRemarked that the young men must fightit out togetherRepeatedly, in contempt of the disgustof iterationReproof of such supererogatory counselRequiring natural services from her inthe button departmentRespect one another's affectationsRespected the vegetable yet more thanhe esteemed the flowerRevived for them so much of themselvesRewards, together with theexpectations, of the virtuousRhoda will love you. She is firm whenshe lovesRich and poor 's all right, if I'm richand you're poorRipe with oft telling and old is thetaleRogue on the tremble of detectionRose was much behind her ageRose! what have I done? 'Nothing atall,' she saidRumour for the nonce had a strongerspice of truth than usualSaid she was what she would have givenher hand not to beSalt of earth, to whom their salt mustserve for nourishmentSatirist too devotedly loves his lashto be a persuasive teacherSatirist is an executioner byprofessionSays you're so clever you ought to be amanScorn titles which did not distinguishpractical officesScorned him for listening to thehesitations (hers)Scotchman's metaphysics; you knownothing clearScreams of an uninjured ladySecond fiddle; he could only mean whatshe meantSecret of the art was his meaning whathe saidSecrets throw on the outsiders the onusof raising a scandalSeed-Time passed thus smoothly, andadolescence came onSelf-consoled when they are notself-justifiedSelf, was digging pits for comfort toflow inSelf-incenseSelf-worship, which is oftenself-distrustSelf-deceiver may be a persuasivedeceiver of anotherSelfishness and icy inaccessibility toemotionSemblance of a tombstone lady besideher lordSense, even if they can't understandit, flatters them soSensitiveness to the sting, which isnot allowed to poisonSentimentality puts up infant hands forabsolutionSerene presumptionService of watering the dry and dryingthe damp (Whiskey)Seventy, when most men are reaping andstacking their sinsSham spiritualismShare of foulness to them that are forscouring the chamberShe marries, and it's the end of hersparklingShe seems honest, and that is the mostwe can hope of girlsShe had sunk her intelligence in hersensationsShe had a fatal attraction for antiquesShe had great awe of the word'business'She ran through delusion and delusion,exhausting eachShe, not disinclined to dilute hergriefShe was unworthy to be the wife of atailorShe did not detest the Countess becauseshe could not like herShe endured meekly, when there was nomeeknessShe was perhaps a little the taller ofthe twoShe thought that friendship was sweeterthan loveShe herself did not like to be seeneating in publicShe had a thirsting mindShe was sick of personal freedomShe believed friendship practicablebetween men and womenShe had to be the hypocrite or else—leapShe was at liberty to weep if shepleasedShe felt in him a maker of factsShe was not his match—To speak wouldbe to succumbShe disdained to question the mouthwhich had bitten herShe had no longer anything to resent:she was obliged to weepShe stood with a dignity that the worddid not expressShe dealt in the flashes which connectideasShe began to feel that this was life inearnestShe might turn out good, if wellguarded for a timeShe sought, by looking hard, tounderstand it betterShe was thrust away because because hehad offendedShe seemed really a soaring birdbrought down by the fowlerShe can make puddens and piesShe was not, happily, one of the womenwho betray strong feelingShould we leave a good deed half doneShowery, replied the admiral, as hiscocked-hat was knocked offShun comparisonsShuns the statuesque pathetic, or anykind of posturingSign that the evil had reached frompricks to pokesSilence and such signs are likerevelations in black nightSilence was their only protection tothe Nice FeelingsSilence is commonly the slow poisonused by those who mean to murder loveSilence was doing the work of a scourgeSimple obstinacy of will sustained herSimple affection must bear the strainof friendship if it canSimplicity is the keenest weaponSincere as far as she knew: as far asone who loves may beSinners are not to repent only in wordsSlap and pinch and starve our appetitesSlave of existing conventionsSlaves of the priestsSleepless nightSlightest taste for comic analysis thatdoes not tumble to farceSmall beginnings, which are in realitythe mighty barriersSmall things producing greatconsequencesSmallest of our gratifications in lifecould give a happy toneSmart remarks have their measureddistancesSmile she had in reserve forserviceable personsSmoky receptacle cherishing millionsSmothered in its pudding-bed of thegrotesque (obesity)Snatch her from a possessor whoforfeited by undervaluing herSnuffle of hypocrisy in her prayerSo the frog telleth tadpolesSo it is when you play at Life! Whenyou will not go straightSo long as we do not know that we areperforming any remarkable featSo says the minute Years are beforeyouSo indulgent when they drop their bloton a lady's characterSo much for morality in those days!So are great deeds judged when thedanger's past (as easy)Socially and politically mean one thingin the endSoft slumber of a strength never yetcalled forthSolitude is pasturage for a suspicionSome so-called laws of honourSomething of the hare in us when thehounds are full crySort of religion with her to believe nowrong of youSouth-western Island has fewattractions to other than invalidsSpare me that word "female" as long asyou liveSpeech that has to be hauled from thedepths usually betraysSpeech is poor where emotion is extremeSpeech was a scourge to her sense ofhearingSpiritualism, and on the balm that itwasStand not in my way, nor follow me toofarStartled by the criticism in laughterState of feverish patriotismStatesman who stooped to conquer factthrough fictionStatistics are according to theirconjurorsSteady shakes themStory that she believed indeed, but hadnot quite sensibly feltStrain to see in the utter dark, andnothing can come of thatStraining for common talk, and showingthe strainStrength in love is the sole sincerityStrengthening the backbone for a bendof the knee in calamityStultification of one's feelings andideasStyle is the mantle of greatnessStyle resembling either earlyarchitecture or utter dilapidationSubterranean recess for Nature againstthe Institutions of ManSuch a man was banned by the world,which was to be despised?Suggestion of possible danger mightmore dangerous than silenceSunning itself in the glass of EnvySuspects all young men and most youngwomenSuspicion was her best witnessSweet treasure before which lies adragon sleepingSweetest on earth to her was to beprized by her brotherSwell and illuminate citizen prose to aprincely poeticSympathy is for proving, not pratingTaint of the hypocrisy which comes withshameTake 'em somethin' like Providence—asthey comeTaking oath, as it were, by their lowernatureTale, which leaves the man's mind athomeTask of reclaiming a bad man isextremely seductive to good womenTaste a wound from the lightest touch,and they nurse the venomTears of such a man have more of bloodthan of water in themTears are the way of women and theircomfortTears that dried as soon as they hadserved their endTears of men sink plummet-deepTelling her anything, she makes half aface in anticipationTendency to polysyllabic phraseologyTenderness which Mrs. Mel permittedrather than encouragedTension of the old links keeping ustogetherTerrible decree, that all must act whowould prevailThat which fine cookery does for thecementing of couplesThat beautiful trust which habit givesThat a mask is a concealment